The Scarlet Banner

by Felix Dahn

  CHAPTER II

  The Carthage of the Vandals was still a stately, brilliant city, stillthe superb "Colonia Julia Carthago" which Augustus had erectedaccording to the great Caesar's plan in the place of the ancient citydestroyed by Scipio. True, it was no longer--as it had been a centurybefore--next to Rome and Constantinople the most populous city in theempire, but it had suffered little in the external appearance andsplendor of its buildings; only the walls, by which it had beenencircled as a defence against Genseric, were partially destroyed inthe assault by the Vandals, and not sufficiently restored,--anindication of arrogant security or careless indolence.

  The ancient citadel, the Ph[oe]nician "Byrsa," now called the Capitol,still overlooked the blue sea and the harbor, doubly protected bytowers and iron chains. In the squares and the broad streets of the"upper city," a motley throng surged or lounged upon the steps ofChristian basilicas (which were often built out of pagan temples),around the Amphitheatre, the colonnades, the baths with their beds offlowers and groups of palms, kept green and luxuriant by the waterbrought from long distances over the stately arches of the aqueduct.The "lower city," built along the sea, was inhabited by the poorerpeople, principally harbor workmen, and was filled with shops andstorehouses containing supplies for ships and sailors. The streets werenarrow, all running from south to north, from the inner city to theharbor, like the alleys of modern Genoa.

  The largest square in the lower city was the forum of St. Cyprian,named, for the magnificent basilica dedicated to this the most famoussaint in Africa. The church occupied the whole southern side of thesquare, from whose northern portion a long flight of marble steps ledto the harbor (even at the present day, amid the solitude anddesolation of the site of noisy, populous Carthage, the huge ruins ofthe old sea gate still remain), while a broad street led westward tothe suburb of Aklas and the Numidian Gate, and another in the southeastrose somewhat steeply to the upper city and the Capitol.

  Into this great square one hot June evening a varied crowd was pouringfrom the western gate, the Porta Numidia,--Romans and provincials,citizens of Carthage, tradesmen and grocers, with many freedmen andslaves, moved by curiosity and delight in idleness, which attractedthem to every brilliant, noisy spectacle. There were Vandals amongthem, too; men, women, and children, whose yellow or red hair and fairskins were in strong contrast to those of the rest of the population,though the complexions of many were somewhat bronzed by the Africansun. In costume they differed from the Romans very slightly; many notat all. Among these lower classes numbers were of mixed blood, childrenof Vandal fathers who had married Carthaginian women. Here and there inthe concourse appeared a Moor, who had come from the border of thedesert to the capital to sell ivory or ostrich feathers, lion and tigerskins, or antelope horns. The men and women of noble German blood werebetter--that is, more eager, wealthy, and lavish--buyers than thenumerous impoverished Roman senatorial families, whose once boundlesswealth the government had confiscated for real or alleged high treason,or for persistent adherence to the Catholic faith. Not even a singleRoman of the better class was to be seen in the noisy, shouting crowd;a priest of the orthodox religion, who on his way to a dying man couldnot avoid crossing the square, glided timidly into the nearest sidestreet, fear, abhorrence, and indignation all written on his pallidface. For this exulting throng was celebrating a Vandal victory.

  In front of the returning troops surged the dense masses of theCarthaginian populace, shouting, looking back, and often halting withloud acclamations. Many pressed around the Vandal warriors, begging forgifts. The latter were all mounted, many on fine, really noble steeds,descendants of the famous breed brought from Spain and crossed with thenative horses. The westering sun streamed through the wide-open WestGate along the Numidian Way; the stately squadrons glittered andflashed in the vivid light which was dazzlingly reflected from thewhite sandy soil and the white houses. Richly, almost too brilliantly,gold and silver glittered on helmets and shields, broad armlets,sword-hilts, and scabbards, even on the mountings which fastened thelance-heads to the shafts, and, in inlaid work, on the shaftsthemselves. In dress, armor, and ornaments upon rider and steed themost striking hues were evidently the most popular. Scarlet, the Vandalcolor, prevailed; this vivid light-red was used everywhere,--on thelong, fluttering cloaks, the silken kerchiefs on the helmets, whichfell over the neck and shoulders to protect them from the African sun,on the gayly painted, richly gilded quivers, and even on the saddlesand bridles of the horses. Among the skins which the desert animalsfurnished in great variety, the favorites were the spotted antelope,the dappled leopard, the striped tiger, while from the helmets noddedand waved the red plumage of the flamingo and the white feathers of theostrich. The procession closed with several captured camels, laden withfoemen's weapons, and about a hundred Moorish prisoners, men and women,who, with hands tied behind their backs, clad only in brown and whitestriped mantles, marched, bareheaded and barefooted, beside thetowering beasts, driven forward, like them, by blows from the spears oftheir mounted guards.

  On the steps of the basilica and the broad top of the wall of theharbor stairs, the throng of spectators was unusually dense; herepeople could comfortably watch the glittering train without danger fromthe fiery steeds.

  "Who is yonder youth, the fair one?" asked a middle-aged man, with thedress and bearing of a sailor, pointing over the parapet as he turnedto a gray-haired old citizen.

  "Which do you mean, friend Hegelochus? They are almost all fair."

  "Indeed? Well, this is the first time I have been among the Vandals! Myship dropped anchor only a few hours ago. You must show and explaineverything. I mean the one yonder on the white stallion; he is carryingthe narrow red banner with the golden dragon."

  "Oh, that is Gibamund, 'the handsomest of the Vandals,' as the womencall him. Do you see how he looks up at the windows of the palace nearthe Capitol? Among all the crowd gazing down from there he seeks butone."

  "But"--the speaker suddenly started--"who is the other at hisright,--the one on the dun horse? I almost shrank when I met his eye.He looks like the youth, only he is much older. Who is _he_?"

  "That is his brother Gelimer; God bless his noble head!"

  "Aha, so he is the hero of the day? I have often heard his name at homein Syracuse. So he is the conqueror of the Moors?"

  "Yes, he has defeated them again, the torments. Do you hear how theCarthaginians are cheering him? We citizens, too, must thank him forhaving driven the robbers away from our villages and fields back totheir deserts."

  "I suppose he is fifty years old? His hair is very gray."

  "He is not yet forty!"

  "Just look, Eugenes! He has sprung from his horse. What is he doing?"

  "Didn't you see? A child, a Roman boy, fell while trying to run infront of his charger. He lifted him up, and is seeking to find outwhether he was hurt."

  "The child wasn't harmed; it is smiling at him and seizing hisglittering necklet. There--he is unfastening the chain and putting itinto the little fellow's hands. He kisses him and gives him back to hismother. Hark, how the crowd is cheering him! Now he has leaped backinto the saddle. He knows how to win favor."

  "There you wrong him. It is his nature. He would have done the samewhere no eye beheld him. And he need not win the favor of the people:he has long possessed it."

  "Among the Vandals?"

  "Among the Romans, too; that is, the middle and lower classes. Thesenators, it is true, are different! Those who still live in Africahate all who bear the name of Vandal; they have good reason for it,too. But Gelimer has a heart to feel for us; he helps wherever he can,and often opposes his own people; they are almost all violent, prone tosudden anger, and in their rage savagely cruel. I above all others havecause to thank him."

  "You? Why?"

  "You saw Eugenia, my daughter, before we left our house?"

  "Certainly. Into what a lovely girl the frail child whom you broughtfrom Syracuse a few years ago has blossomed!"
/>   "I owe her life, her honor, to Gelimer. Thrasaric, the giant, the mostturbulent of all the nobles, snatched her from my side here in the openstreet at noonday, and carried the shrieking girl away in his arms. Icould not follow as swiftly as he ran. Gelimer, attracted by ourscreams, rushed up, and, as the savage would not release her, struckhim down with a single blow and gave my terrified child back to me."

  "And the ravisher?"

  "He rose, laughed, shook himself, and said to Gelimer: 'You did right,Asding, and your fist is heavy.' And then since--"

  "Well? You hesitate."

  "Yes, just think of it; since then the Vandal, as he could not gain herby force, is suing modestly for my daughter's hand. He, the richestnoble of his nation, wishes to become my son-in-law."

  "Why, that is no bad outlook."

  "Princess Hilda, my girl's patroness--she often sends for thechild to come to her at the Capitol and pays liberally for herembroideries--Princess Hilda herself speaks in his behalf. But Ihesitate; I will not force her on any account."

  "Well, what does she say?"

  "Oh, the Barbarian is as handsome as a picture. I almost believe--Ifear--she likes him. But something holds her back. Who canread a girl's heart? Look, the leaders of the horsemen aredismounting--Gelimer too--in front of the basilica."

  "Strange. He is the hero,--the square echoes with his name,--and helooks so grave, so sad."

  "Yes, there again! But did you see how kindly his eyes shone as hesoothed the frightened child?"

  "Certainly I did. And now--"

  "Yes, there it is; a black cloud suddenly seems to fall upon him. Thereare all sorts of rumors about it among the people. Some say he has ademon; others that he is often out of his mind. Our priests whisperthat it is pangs of conscience for secret crimes. But I will neverbelieve that of Gelimer."

  "Was he always so?"

  "It has grown worse within a few years. Satanas--Saint Cyprian protectus--is said to have appeared to him in the solitude of the desert.Since that time he has been even more devout than before. See, his mostintimate friend is greeting him at the basilica."

  "Yonder priest? He is an Arian; I know it by the oblong, narrowtonsure."

  "Yes," replied the Carthaginian, wrathfully, "it is Verus, thearchdeacon! Curses on the traitor!" He clinched his fists.

  "Traitor! Why?"

  "Well--renegade. He descends from an ancient Roman senatorial familywhich has given the Church many a bishop. His great-uncle was BishopLaetus of Nepte, who died a martyr. But his father, his mother, andseven brothers and sisters died under a former king amid the most crueltortures, rather than abjure their holy Catholic religion. This man,too,--he was then a youth of twenty,--was tortured until he fell as ifdead. When he recovered consciousness, he abjured his faith and becamean Arian, a priest,--the wretch!--to buy his life. Soon--for Satan hasbestowed great intellectual gifts upon him--he rose from step to step,became the favorite of the Asdings, of the court, suddenly even thefriend of the noble Gelimer, who had long kept him coldly andcontemptuously at a distance. And the court gave him this basilica, ourhighest sanctuary, dedicated to the great Cyprian, which, like almostall the churches in Carthage, the heretics have wrested from us."

  "But look--what is the hero doing? He is kneeling on the upper step ofthe church. Now he is taking off his helmet."

  "He is scattering the dust of the marble stairs upon his head."

  "What is he kissing? The priest's hand?"

  "No, the case containing the ashes of the great saint. He is verydevout and very humble. Or shall I say he humiliates himself? He shutshimself up for days with the monks to do penance by scourging."

  "A strange hero of Barbarian blood!"

  "The hero blood shows itself in the heat of battle. He is rising. Doyou see how his helmet--now he is putting it on again--is hacked byfresh blows? One of the two black vulture wings on the crest is cutthrough. The strangest thing is,--this warrior is also a bookworm, adelver into mystic lore; he has attended the lectures of Athenianphilosophers. He is a theologian and--"

  "A player on the lyre, too, apparently! See, a Vandal has handed him asmall one."

  "That is a harp, as they call it."

  "Hark, he is touching the strings! He is singing. I can't understand."

  "It is the Vandal tongue."

  "He has finished. How his Germans shout! They are striking their spearson their shields. Now he is descending the steps. What? Withoutentering the church, as the others did?"

  "Yes, I remember! He vowed, when he shed blood, to shun the saint'sthreshold for three days. Now the horsemen are all mounting again."

  "But where are the foot soldiers?"

  "Yes, that is bad--I mean for the Vandals. They have none, or scarcelyany: they have grown not only so proud, but so effeminate and lazy thatthey disdain to serve on foot. Only the very poorest and lowest of thepopulation will do it. Most of the foot soldiers are Moorishmercenaries, obtained for each campaign from friendly tribes."

  "Ah, yes, I see Moors among the soldiers."

  "Those are men from the Papua mountain. They plundered our frontiersfor a long time. Gelimer attacked their camp and captured their chiefAntalla's three daughters, whom he returned unharmed, without ransom.Then Antalla invited the Asding to his tent to thank him; theyconcluded a friendship of hospitality,--the most sacred bond to theMoors,--and since then they have rendered faithful service even againstother Moors. The parade is over. See, the ranks are breaking. Theleaders are going to the Capitol to convey to King Hilderic the reportof the campaign and the booty. Look, the crowd is dispersing. Let us gotoo. Come back to my house; Eugenia is waiting to serve the eveningmeal. Come, Hegelochus."

  "I am ready, most friendly host. I fear I may burden you a long time.Business with the corn-dealers is slow."

  "Why are you stopping? What are you looking at?"

  "I'm coming. Only I must see this Gelimer's face once more. I shallnever forget those features, and all the strange, contradictory thingswhich you have told me about him."

  "That is the way with most people. He is mysterious,incomprehensible,--'daimonios,' as the Greeks say. Let us go now! Here!To the left--down the steps."